


Skills Revealed

by Jadzia7667



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Explicit Language, M/M, Romance, Sexual Content, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-10-05
Updated: 2005-10-05
Packaged: 2018-09-28 01:50:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,244
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10064141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jadzia7667/pseuds/Jadzia7667
Summary: Snape goes student hunting and finds out more about Harry Potter than he ever thought he would.Disclaimer: JKR owns all, I own nothing. I merely borrow her characters in order to develop my own writing skills. Eventually, I’ll make my own characters and have just as much twisted fun with ‘em. No money is made on these practice stories. JKR has all the blinkin’ money in the world, what would she possibly want with my paltry little accounts? I may have enough put by to buy a cup of Caramel Mocha Latte at Starbucks…maybe. In other words, one cannot get blood from a turnip, nor damages from moi. Besides, they’re not damaged. They’re debauched and that’s entirely different, really.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Note from SeparatriX, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [HP Fandom](http://fanlore.org/wiki/HP_Fandom_\(archive\)), which was closed for health and financial reasons. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in August 2016. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [HP Fandom collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/hpfandom/profile).

Eight o’clock on the evening. The little miscreants should all be in their common rooms by now. Except that of course they would not be. Severus Snape prepared for his favorite indoor sport; student hunting. He charmed his robes to sweep majestically about him as he strode the corridors, soundless in his menace. Few people knew he used a silencing spell on his shoes to achieve that soundless effect. Pocketing his wand, he left his rooms.

Up and down the corridors he swooped, terrifying students, taking points, issuing soul searing comments on their intelligence, their looks, their motives, their parentage; whatever he could think of, really. Insults came easily to him, no one could oppose him. He was the Mighty Potions Master and his wrath was unparalleled in the history of the school. His authority was absolute, his control was absolute and his evident scorn for those he considered to be lesser than himself was absolute.

His personal barriers were nearly impenetrable. Even in the still silence of his bedchamber, he did not allow himself to think of the one thing that would destroy his reputation forever. If the students ever found out…if the staff ever found out…if anyone ever found out, he would be a laughingstock, he knew it. His dignity would be stripped from him. His authority would be less than nothing. Particularly if the Potter whelp ever found out, his humiliation would be so great that he would have to disembowel himself publicly just to regain a measure of self esteem. He shivered as forbidden thoughts of the Potter brat invaded his consciousness once more.

He was so beautiful, Snape thought sourly. All golden sun kissed skin over hard muscles that bunched and swelled and rose and fell as he walked into class, out of class, to his meals, to the Library, to Quidditch practice. Oh Gods, Quidditch practice, where he got sweaty and dirty and fierce and powerful and oh so very male, and…Snape trembled beneath his robes and inflicted more invective on the Hufflepuff third year girl he’d just flushed out of her hiding place. Finally, her tiny face streaked with tears, he removed ten points from her House, gave her detention with Filch, and let her go.

Snape didn’t dare think about what it meant that he watched the Potter boy so closely and so frequently. He was fascinated by that rose touched, full lipped mouth. He was enthralled by the way the boy smelled. He was fascinated by the way the boy moved. He didn’t really understand why, having no experience with such matters. He only knew that he could not look away, must follow the boy whenever possible. He had never felt like this before, not ever. He knew he never would feel this way again. He supposed Potter wasn’t a boy anymore. He was seventeen, in his last year of schooling, legally a man. Snape supposed, after all that had happened to him, he was a man in every recognized sense of the word. He certainly was no longer a child after killing Voldemort, if indeed he’d ever really been one.

His face had matured into lean ascetic lines and planes. He was an inch or two taller than he had been last year. His eyes were more serious now, in the months following the final defeat of the Dark Lord. His hands were dexterous, long fingered, wide and clever. He rarely made mistakes in Potions anymore. His shoulders were broad; his arms smooth and sleek with ropy muscles, his legs were incredibly powerful. Snape got quite faint just watching the man ride a broomstick. His arse was sweetly curved, and oh so firm. He didn’t dare think about what other parts of Potter’s body might look like, except in the privacy of his bedchamber. 

Lately, there had been flashes of happiness, of satisfaction, in the bright verdant eyes of Snape’s obsession. He wondered why with a brief flash of jealousy. He knew he could never approach the boy; who would want him, an old, worn down, nearly broken ex Death Eater? He was thirty eight and most days felt like he was eighty eight. Even if the boy, for some unfathomable reason, wanted him in return, he certainly would not when he discovered Snape’s darkest, most well hidden and terrible secret.

With a sigh for what could never be, he continued his rounds. He turned a corner and stopped suddenly, hearing noises coming from an empty classroom. Moans, and grunts, sighs and peculiar wet sucking sounds; Snape couldn’t imagine what was going on in that classroom but he intended to find out and to publicly humiliate the offenders as often as possible. He put out his wand with a muttered, “Nox”, and glided silently to the open doorway, eyes searching for the offending party or parties. 

Finally he spotted them, in a corner on the floor. Where had they gotten that mattress, Snape wondered. Who was it? He strained his eyes. Oh no. He recognized that familiar black mop of messy hair. He recognized that firm curved arse, too, after he’d been lucky enough to wander into the shower room by accident after practice last month. Now he knew why the impossible idiot was looking more content these days. Snape’s heart sank to his toes. He suppressed his envious sigh and continued to watch the boy and his partner. He supposed it was some pretty Ravenclaw girl. He was sure Potter must be straight as an arrow; there were girls draped all over him at every opportunity. 

He continued to watch, straining to identify the other party. The source of the moans and grunts, sighs and panting. He was barely able to suppress a moan of shock when it dawned on him. Harry Potter was busily preparing to fuck Draco Malfoy into the mattress and beyond. Draco seemed to be enjoying the foreplay quite a lot, judging from the pleas leaving his mouth at regular intervals. Well, well, this _was_ interesting. He slid silently into the room, helpless to prevent himself from witnessing the entire event in all its glory. He concealed himself, barely, behind a desk, and watched in fascination.

“Oh Gods, Harry…please…now…more…”Draco’s voice was husky with passion, hoarse with need. His naked body gleamed in the darkness, all milky white skin sheened with passion.

Harry chuckled softly and leaned down to kiss him slowly. Those temptingly ripe rosy lips settled over Draco’s pout and sucked the lower lip into his mouth. He bit down gently and Draco moaned his approval. Harry’s hands stroked up and down Draco’s torso firmly enough for him to feel, but too lightly for it to tickle. At least, Snape didn’t see Draco laughing. Then those long clever fingers were pinching at Draco’s nipples and he squeaked in surprise and passion, thrusting up at Harry, wanting more contact desperately.

Harry’s busy mouth had moved from Draco’s lips to his ear. He was whispering something into the pretty ear of the boy, making him blush and squirm and say please, yes, now do it. Snape felt his trousers tighten at the sounds coming from Draco Malfoy’s mouth. He wondered if a person could die from pleasure and he hoped Draco wouldn’t. It would be most embarrassing to have to report a naked and dead body off the Charms corridor. Snape turned his attention back to the lusty display in front of him.

Harry was nibbling Draco’s earlobe now, and Draco was making that mewling noise again. He watched the tip of Harry’s hot pink tongue come out and trace along the curve of Draco’s ear. He watched Draco squirm and shudder. Harry’s mouth moved along Draco’s cheek to his throat and he administered several wet sucking kisses to the pulse that beat so quickly at the base of his throat. Snape could see that pulse even from his hiding place and thought it most arousing.

What aroused him most, though, was the evident skill that Harry possessed in matters of the pleasures of the flesh. He wondered what those hands and that mouth would feel like against his own skin and his breathing grew labored. Harry was moving down Draco’s body now, hands and mouth pinching and stroking, biting and licking at all the exposed flesh beneath him. He was murmuring things too softly for Snape to hear. They seemed to drive Draco to a fever pitch, though, so he assumed it was something vaguely obscene and passionate.

He bit back a moan as Harry slithered down Draco’s chest to his navel, driving his tongue into it over and over again. When the young blonde was incoherent with desire, he sat back, settled himself between Draco’s splayed thighs and licked the tip of his cock. Just once. Then he blew hot breath over it and Draco was begging. Snape could hear him clearly.

“Oh, Gods, fuck me, Harry, fuck me, now, now, please, fuck me.” He’d never heard the boy so unrefined, so clearly a highly sensitized mass of animal need. He hoped he’d never hear him so again. Harry chuckled again, a low sexy sound, indicating he knew full well his power over the other boy. 

“Patience, Malfoy, I’ll fuck you so hard you feel my cock behind your eyeballs…when I’m damned well good and ready.” With that, he swallowed Draco’s cock all the way to the base. Draco screamed his pleasure, then moaned in disappointment as Harry just as quickly released his prick, only to lick and suck at the base and to run his hands over the tight balls, squeezing and stroking. He played that cock like a flute, running his lips and tongue over it, top and bottom, front and back, nibbling at the vein clearly visible along the underside. He stopped now and then to give a hard suck to the tip, licking up the pre come that dribbled continuously there, blowing hot air across the glans, nibbling at the foreskin. 

Snape wondered idly if everyone had a foreskin, as he himself did. Then he decided it didn’t matter. One of Harry’s hands was reaching for something; a jar of some sort. He sat back, murmuring things Snape couldn’t hear, and opened the jar. He dipped his fingers in it and Snape’s heart stopped. They were going to fuck and Snape was going to watch. He had never been so aroused in all his life. His trousers were uncomfortably tight and just a bit damp in front.

Harry sat comfortably between Draco’s legs, listening to him plead for release; plead for Harry to touch him. Draco’s legs came up and back at a whispered command from the dark haired sex God in front of him. Harry swiped a glistening finger against the boy’s perineum and Draco gasped. Then that talented finger was circling Draco’s puckered hole, teasing it as Draco moaned his need. The boy was a melted puddle of sensation; even Snape could see that much. He wondered why Harry was tormenting him so, then supposed they liked it that way.

Harry finally slid one finger into Draco’s body, twisting it gently, stretching the other man’s tight entrance. He took such care with his partner, Snape thought wildly. He was making sure Draco was well prepared for what was to come. He watched another finger disappear into Draco’s arsehole, and heard the boy moan, watched him thrust his hips up desperately, seeking deeper contact. When a third finger disappeared into that tight opening and Draco’s cock twitched in response while he howled his pleasure, Snape nearly stopped breathing.

Finally, Harry removed his fingers. Draco moaned at the loss of contact, but not for long. Harry took a brief moment to slick his cock with whatever was in the jar. Then Harry’s prick was nudging the entrance to Draco’s body and Draco resumed his pleas. “Please…can’t wait…need you…love you…only you…now…please.” Snape could sympathize. Just watching made him want to beg Potter to fuck him. 

In one smooth motion, Harry slid home, sheathing his entire length in Draco’s body. Snape noted that the boy had an impressive cock, long, and just thick enough to be well remembered by anyone lucky enough to have it.

Harry began to moan himself. “So tight…so hot…Gods!” He held himself steady until the body beneath him adjusted to his intrusion. Then he carefully rested his elbows on either side of Draco’s shoulders and began to thrust. Slowly at first, he changed the angle several times until he elicited a shudder and moan of approval. Having found the right angle, he picked up the pace, pounding into the sweet Slytherin beneath him. 

Harry leaned down to capture Draco’s lips in a wet kiss, full of tongue and teeth. He sucked at the mark he’d left earlier on Draco’s throat, never missing a beat in the primal rhythm he’d set for their lovemaking. Snape was sure they must be in love, for the scene before him to be so intensely arousing. He allowed himself a moment to grieve; he’d have no chance whatsoever with Harry now, if indeed he ever had one. He could not compete with Draco’s loveliness, his passion, his social connections, his vast fortune. He knew better than to try, he thought sadly.

They were clearly about to reach their mutual climax. Harry was fisting Draco’s cock in time with his thrusts, moaning his pleasure. Draco’s eyes had rolled back in his head, legs flexing, hips pumping. Suddenly, his cock spurted white creamy stuff all over his stomach and Harry’s hand. With a shout, Harry emptied his load into his lover, still thrusting. The two men were covered in sweat and semen. It had grown very warm in the room, and Snape could see Harry’s exhaustion. It made him want to cradle the boy in his arms, to soothe him. That was Draco’s job, though…or at least he thought it was.

Harry pulled out, somewhat roughly, Snape thought. He listened very hard to catch the next words Harry spoke. A muttered ‘Scourgify’ was first, and the sticky mess between them disappeared. Then Harry leaned in very close to Draco, as though to kiss him. Draco was backing up, eyes wide with apprehension. Something was wrong, Snape thought. 

Harry’s voice was low, but carried easily in the still night air. Snape had never heard Harry be so cold to anyone. “That, Malfoy, was what is commonly known as a good bye fuck. Did you think I wouldn’t find out?” The volume of his voice raised a fraction, the tone lowered to an icy hardness. 

“I saw you with him, Malfoy, last night, in the Astronomy Tower. Did you think I wouldn’t find out? You bastard! I saw you, kissing that boy, touching him, bending over for him. For Gods’ sake, have you no shame?” He looked down at the other boy sadly for just a moment, then resumed speaking in that same harsh, cold voice.

“We’re through. Don’t speak to me, ever again. I do not share. You’re nothing but a slut, and I will not take you back, ever. I will not forgive you. Don’t even try.” With that, Harry stood, dressed rapidly, and left, striding through the doorway, shoulders set and tense. He never saw his Potions Professor staring at him in shock. He heard the beginnings of Draco’s sobs, but did not let them sway him an inch. He simply left, as quickly as he possibly could.

Draco was huddled on the mattress, a naked and quivering lump of misery. He was sobbing as though his heart was broken. Perhaps it was, Snape thought idly. He could not imagine what had possessed the young Malfoy. Evidently, he’d cheated on Potter with some other boy. Snape couldn’t understand why someone would or could go from Harry Potter, evident highly skilled Sex God, to anyone else. Ever. He felt no sympathy for the young Malfoy. In fact, he felt a queer sort of joy in his closed off heart. Perhaps now, he could have his shot at the boy. Now that he knew Harry was gay. Now that he knew he himself had something to offer the boy.

He knew, objectively, that he wasn’t pretty. His pale skin and dark hair were not remarkable at all. He wasn’t young. He wasn’t particularly pleasant. However, Potter seemed to value sexual fidelity, loyalty, perhaps. That wouldn’t be a problem for Snape; he snorted silently as he contemplated the hoards of lovers that were _not_ beating down his door. He knew that intellectually they were a match for one another. Potter was nearly as clever as he was himself, and at least as intelligent. They’d found, in preparing for the last battle, that they had a good deal in common. They’d put their former animosity behind them, uniting against a common enemy. Snape wouldn’t exactly call them friends, but they were no longer overtly hostile to one another.

Snape sat on the floor of the classroom for a long time, absently listening to Draco’s sobs and thinking hard about Harry Potter. He could offer the man intellectual debate, security, loyalty, fidelity and love. He could also offer him his virginity. Severus Snape was a virgin. It was his most closely guarded secret. Not even Albus knew it. Potter certainly didn’t know it. Perhaps it would make the difference. 

Snape stood, painfully. He adjusted his trousers over his erection and went to loom over Draco. The younger man simply stared in shock. He moaned in embarrassment and tried ineffectually to cover himself.

“Don’t bother. I’ve seen everything there is to see, Draco. Fifty points from Slytherin for conduct unbecoming a gentleman.” He snarled the words, heavy malice falling on the blonde like acid rain. “You are an imbecile, boy. What were you thinking?”

Draco stared at him in shock. “I love him, Sir. I made a terrible mistake, but I can make it right. He loves me, I know he does.”

Snape laughed, a harsh sound of disbelief in the quiet room. “He does not. If he did, he would not have treated you so. He was quite clear, Draco. Let me be clear also. Stay away from him. He does not want you anymore; you are damaged goods now.” He looked down at the boy, disgust evident in his inky black gaze.

“You don’t deserve him, Draco. Just leave him alone. That’s an order, from your Head of House.” Snape’s voice was cold as ice, hard as steel, rigid as his cock beneath his robes.

He turned to leave, then thought better of it. “One more thing, Draco. I am assigning you detention with Mr. Filch every evening until the end of term. Report to him at eight o’clock each evening. He’ll keep you busy.”

With that, he swept out of the room, intent on gaining his quarters so he could figure out how best to approach Potter. He did not lie to himself. He knew it would be difficult. He knew it would take a bit of time for Harry to get over Draco’s betrayal. He thought that was perhaps a good thing; it would give him time to strategize.

He was going to win the boy’s heart. He was determined, and a determined Severus Snape was a force of nature unparalleled. He would not be denied. Not this time. 

The End…for now.


End file.
